


A Bright Summer Under the Sun

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [96]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), Animal Death, Fan Offspring, Illustrated, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Child Character(s) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: Karkat finally receives a call from the one person he last expected to hear from.Takes place immediately after "a forest of empty armor"





	1. slow business day

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays! I survived 2017 by some weird miracle.:3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, my dudes.

**== >Be Karkat at work **

Bicycles move through the parking lot, going through their own circular motions on the pavement. If they were birds, you’d swear they were performing a clunky courtship dance underneath the unrelenting summer sun. Instead, its two troll kits just screwing around on bikes. Though maybe you’re not right in still referring to Hercul and Karcin as kits. Kit implies a younger troll child, newly molted and still learning about the world. You estimate they’re about four-years-old, though that’s leaps and bounds ahead of human children. A troll four-year-old is able to walk, talk, and operate a bike like a human six-year-old.

Humans and troll equivalencies are always on your mind now, mostly because it’s an interesting thought process that keeps you from dwelling on your current situation with Vriska. On lazy Saturday afternoons, there’s not much to do around the bar but mindless clean and think.

“Look at my boy, _rosso._ ” Diamonds Droog sits by the window. He has a lit cigarillo in hand, letting smoke steadily spiral toward the ceiling, “Playing bicycles like an athlete and not even breaking a sweat. So young and he’s already Troll Luca Brasi.”

You think of how immoral Troll Luca Brasi was in _The Godfather_ novel but then remember Droog is friends with the man who signs your paychecks.

“How was his last fight?” you ask, wiping up crumbs of pizza crust and splattered wing sauce at the tables.

“Beautiful, _rosso!_ ” Droog laughs. He puts out the cigarillo in a cluttered ashtray, “Hercul moves like the firefly he is. He’s graceful, more than anyone I’ve ever seen.” He smiles, showing off needlelike teeth. “His teacher wishes for him to fight professionally, drop out of school and go abroad. I say ‘No, Marco, are you crazy?’. Hitting the books is the best thing a fighter can do.”

You nod. “Brains last longer than muscle.”

“True, true!” Droog smiles. “What of your human daughter?”

“According to Jade, Nessie’s _barely_ a toddler. She’s not old enough to do a lot on her own, and it’s a weird miracle she can move around as she does.” You pause. “And she’s not my daughter.”

Droog’s laugh is like a loud bark. “ _Dammi una pausa, rosso!_ You love that human child as much as you do the one that thinks he’s French.”

Blood flushes your face and you can’t look at Droog. You finish cleaning up the sun-streaked tables and move to another section of the room. “I love them both.” You mutter.

“Eh? Don’t be flustered, _rosso._ ” Droog snorts, “You think I’m one to mock someone who has his own little family? Truly we are all families of a different color, whether troll, human, carapace, or lizard.”

The kitchen doors shutters and Slick steps out. You think since he became the landlord of your neighborhood and the bar opened, the man’s shrunken in on himself. Nowadays he seems even shorter and worse tempered, though that’s not something to turn you away. In fact, it just reminds you of your grandfather before he got sick.

Slick sniffs the air and glares at the taller carapace. “Eh, Droog! What did I tell you about smoking in here!”

“The bar allows smoking!” Droog protests, “You think you can have a true Nehetalian work for you and not let them smoke?”

“How the hell is Hercul _not_ asthmatic with how you smoke?”

Droog folds his arm, sticking up his chin with an indignant look. “Simple: I do not smoke in my own home.”

“Then don’t smoke in here!” Slick points at a sign, leading to the veranda outside. “The smoking area is there!”

“Well, I’m done smoking anyway.” Droog huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, get in there.” Slick moves his thumb from the door to the kitchen. “The new hires are all wondering how to make the pizza and they’re screwing it up.”

Droog sighs and moves to the kitchen, ready to oversee the others. He disappears behind the double-doors, speaking in Nehetalian mixed with English. Once the other carapace disappears, Slick walks over to the nearly overflowing ashtray, dumping the ashes in the can.

You frown. “I was gonna take care of it, boss.”

“You got enough on your mind, kid.” Droog says, “You been doing whatever you see like a damn robot. I bet you don’t even realize you’ve cleaned the same tables for the past half-hour.”

You look at the table, grumbling, “I missed some spots…”

“Not spots anybody would notice. Sweep a bit near the tables, why don’t you?”

You go get the broom that’s always in the corner and make your rounds near the pool tables. People are forever spilling food or drink in the midst of drunkenly trying to make holes and wins bets. Slick follows you to the area, taking out a stick of gum. Since Arthur’s gotten old enough to repeat words, he’s taken to chewing gum in lieu of cursing. If you didn’t hate gum so much, maybe you’d do the same.

“So what’s goin’ on with you and the Baby Mama? She not call yet?” Slick asks.

You groan. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

“ _Obviously_.” Slick snorts. “So you got no clue what’s going on?”

You may as well give up the information now because you doubt Slick is going to leave you alone until he knows _something._ At least you can speak with Slick honestly because he’s a neutral party when it comes to Vriska, unlike everyone else you know.

“You know about the mess with my moi— _ex-_ moirail?” Slick nods. You sigh, “Well, I’ve had it with her. I want full custody of our kid. I spoke with her mother, Arthat’s grandmother, and she agrees. The worst part is that I can’t bring myself to hate her. Not as much as I should. Isn’t that some shit? She’s probably fucked up our son for life and I can’t bring myself to call her a bitch. Or worse.”

“Well, she was your matesprit.”

“Barely.”

“And there’s always going to be some part of you that cares for her. You ain’t a malicious person, Karkat. Somebody’s gotta fuck up badly for you to hate them.”

“Yeah, but I _hate_ it.” You lean against a pool table, looking at the far shorter carapace. “It’d be so much easier if I could just write her off. Instead, I’m spending my free time trying to figure out how to jump through legal loopholes in regards to bullshit custody paperwork.”

“You’re better off confronting her right away, pal.” Slick says, “No good comes from trying to sneak around when your kid’s livelihood is on the line.”

You laugh nervously at that word: _Pal._ “‘Pal?’ You’re my boss!”

“Yeah, but a boss can be like a father when no one else is.” Slick says, “Face it, kid, you got no good adults in your life. Or at least not ones that realize you’re being given the second degree about situations. Your parents just plopped you down into the world, didn’t they?”

More like tossed you into the world and hoped for the best. If it wasn’t for Cronus and your grandfather, you might have been better off being raised by wild animals.

“They did what they could.” You lie poorly. Slick stares you down and you mutter, “There was a lot going on when I was laid. A lot of things that nobody could do anything about.”

“You still got a rough deal, kid.” Slick says, “And you know what I think?” he speaks before you can offer your opinion, “I think you got too much history around here and you need…a clean tablet. _Tabula rasa,_ as the ancestors say.”

You raise an eyebrow. “ _Tabula rasa_?”

“Old language dictionaries say it means ‘clean slate’.”

“I know what it means. You…want me to leave my home?” The very idea makes your stomach feel like its full of hornets. “I don’t think I can. I can’t just leave my friends and family behind, and where would I even go? I don’t know anything about the rest of the UTC.” Hell, you’ve never even been out of New Jack.

“Then travel!” Slick spreads out of his arms. “You’re not some crotchety old man, crab-boy! You’re still young enough to just hop a train and then head out to some sticks just to see it. That’s what I did and I was the better for it.” He folds his arms, nodding as he continues his spiel. “Being close with people is good and all but it can also feel smothering. History can weigh you down, make it feel like you ain’t breathing. It’s not like you gotta leave the country. Just get away for a bit. Go someplace to breathe. Set up shop in the burbs with the matesprit. Start a real family.”

“Oh _gods_ no.” You laugh nervously, thinking about the chaos of Sollux and you having to put up with more children. Your hair would permanently go gray after a year. “I can’t do that to my beefucking nerd. He lives with his kismesis and his family needs him. We’d have to uproot the entire family, though, I guess it wouldn’t be bad if we got a two family house. It’s not like I don’t get along with them but…”

You stop because you’ve never really thought of going on your own with Sollux before. You’ve only been with him for a year and you’re already starting to push away others, sectioning off your relationship with Sollux as something ‘other’ compared to the rest of the family. Yeah, you know his parents aren’t in the best health and can’t survive without him…but you almost wish they were. You also wish that Eridan was on his own with the kids and didn’t have to be tied so strongly to Sollux. You wish it was just the two of you or that you at least had your own space without having to worry about everyone else intruding.

Slick smirks. “You love him, don’t you?”

“No!” you laugh, “I mean, like…its early, isn’t it? I can’t feel that way right now! I barely know him. I mean, I’ve known him all my life and we’ve always been close friends but it was never anything like this.”

“Its never too early to fall in love.” You groan and Slick adds, “Hey, take it from me. I’ve always been an asshole but even I had a clue when I knew how I felt about Paint. I’ve known her since high school. And, well, I didn’t have the greatest time growing up. I was new to the country. Didn’t speak English too well. I missed my father and everything familiar. I was a grumpy bastard for most of high school but Paint just… _melted_ me, y’know? Made everything soft and sweet like sunlight. She just radiates so much love. She’s the perfect woman in that way. I’m sure you feel the same way about him.”

“Yeah.” You know that feeling well when you’re with Sollux. You haven’t been intimate aside from the failed blowjob but just having him there makes you feel warm and satisfied. It’s entirely different from the frenetic energy Dave fills you with. Just the skin to skin contact is enough to satiate you…for now that is.

At some point, you would like to have children but you have no idea about the when and how. Right now you’re just keeping your head above water.

The basement door bangs open and both Slick and you jump. Gamzee steps out, shutting the door behind him. There’s blood on his slacks, splattered from a violent impact. In one hand he has a bucket full of gore and multicolored blood while the other hand has a bloodied mallet.

“So,” Gamzee begins, “you had a lusus problem.”

Slick squints. “You mean I _have_ a lusus problem?”

“No.”

Slick looks at the bucket, the mallet, and puts two and two together with a shudder.“Oh. Y’know, when I sent you down there, I meant for you to just piece out where they were. Not to go all _Cannibal Holocaust_ down there—agh! Don’t wipe that junk on your _work shirt_!”

Gamzee pauses in wiping the mallet’s mess on his shirt. “It didn’t get on anything down there. All the crates and shit are fine, well, the ones the lusus didn’t get into.”

“How many did they get into?” Slick frets, then changes his concern to, “Wait, how many were _down_ there?”

“About five, seven. Small ones, about the size of really big rats.” Gamzee hefts up the bucket. “So do I toss this in the trash or…?”

“ _No_!” Slick points to the back room. “Double bag it and put it in the garbage. Then go change your shirt.” Gamzee shrugs and leaves the room, ambling on his way without a concern. You move away from him, not wanting to even smell dead animals on him. You’ve lived with the taxidermy nightmare that is Dirk and Jake’s life but you still can’t tolerate it. Slick sighs and looks at you, “Looks like I’m gonna have to call in a few favors about _this_ new bullshit.”

“Bullcrap.”

“Bullcrap. Gods.” Slick rubs his temples. “I miss booze, cigarettes, and cursing. Being a parent is hell.”

“Tell me about it.” you sigh. “There’s gotta be a hole somewhere down there if they’re getting in like this and its only going to get worse. Hurricane season’s coming.”

Slick nods. “When Hurricane Callie came around, lusii headed inland. Probably another hurricane headed our way.”

The thought of more rain, wind, and terror just makes your mood plummet further. You’re not even sure if SHEV is prepared for a bout of terrifying weather. At least you don’t have to do it on your own. Jake and Jade can typically smell hurricanes and would have the trailer prepped for doomsday if they had their way.

You’re almost relieved when customers start coming in. It’s the usual group of bored college students and people on late lunch breaks from the businesses nearby. Having an actual business that’s doing well in your neck of the woods that isn’t a liquor or department store is still strange to you, but you’re glad for the work. You’re glad that you can just shut off your brain and focus on taking orders and playing the good host. While you’re working for tips, you come to two realizations: [1] you need more comfortable shoes for work and [2] you’re tired of tiptoeing around the situation with Vriska.

For once, you’re going to be proactive. As much as you would like to go immediately home and soak your feet after work, you delay that plan. You clock out and take the car in a similar but different direction. You’re glad that Dave at least lends you the car when he’s not using it, though you hate tolerating Dave’s cluttered mess of a vehicle. You stop in front of your old trailer, though still calling it ‘your own trailer’ seems redundant about now. Its been, what? Two years since you moved out? And even when you were living there, it wasn’t much of a home. It was just a place your family occupied and barely tolerated each other.

Your stomach is in knots as you approach the door and knocking feels like downright agony. There’s a murmur behind the door before it opens and you’re face to face with your mother.

“Mom? What are you doing here?” you ask.

Cronus wipes his eyes and yawns. “That’s what I’d like to ask you.”

“I came to talk to Terezi.” You sigh.

Cronus frowns. “You sure about that?”

You fold your arms. “Is she here?”

Cronus sighs and lets you in. He’s never been one to get between you and what you want, even if it's not a great idea.

The trailer is still as spotless as it always is so Kankri is still fighting off his depression with a metal bat…or is transfigured into a near obsessive-compulsive need for cleanliness. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around in the trailer either. No hints of Kempie, Astrid, Karcin, and definitely no Kankri.

“Where _is_ everybody?” you ask.

Cronus sits back on the couch, rubbing his eyes. “I did a double shift at the club last night so I’m exhausted to hell and back. Thought I’d chill on my moirail’s couch and let Karcin have his fun with Hercul for the day. Kankri didn’t want the kids being too loud and he had a thing to go to so he took them with him, so it's just Terezi and me.”

“Kankri had a thing? On the weekend?”

Cronus lies back down on the couch, stretching out like a cat under the sun. “Yeah. Some environmental something or other he was speaking at. Or listening to. Not sure…he explained it to me but y’know…sleepy.”

You nod with a small smile. “Take it easy, Mom.”

“Mmmhm,” Cronus mumbles but he’s noncommittal and half-awake by that point.

You head down the hall, knowing where Terezi’s favorite place to relax must be. You knock on the bedroom door, waiting for her to answer. There’s no response and you knock again, this time insistent. Finally, you say, “Terezi. It’s me, so get your ass out of bed.”

There’s a noise behind the door following this—the sound of someone stumbling and shuffling out of bed. The door opens and Terezi is staring at you in the face, or where your face roughly is with your weird taste-smell senses.

“Karkat…” the tealblood mumbles, “I…shit, this is…”

“Yeah, yeah, this is awkward.” You say because you don’t have time for this emotional bullshit right now. “I haven’t talked to you. You haven’t talked to me. You betrayed my trust, we’re not moirails anymore, and it was all a bad idea in the first place. I’m over it.”

Terezi frowns. “I wasn’t going to say that. I just wanted to know how you’re doing.”

“Fine.” You insist, still not wanting to get into the bullshit as much as she does right now, “We need to talk about Vriska.”

Terezi frowns but you have no idea if its because she’s irritated with your presence or your refusal to discuss the elephant in the room that’s continuously making noise and glaring at you both.

“Okay, we’ll do it your way.” she concedes.

She lets you into Kankri and her bedroom, which is a little less orderly than the rest of the trailer but you think that’s because of Terezi’s influence. She was never a particularly neat troll even when she had eyesight. Terezi sits on the bed but you keep your distance, preferring to stay close to the walls. You look at the desk and see a pile of folders that look like they’ve been rifled through.

It has to be something important. You know Kankri prefers to not bring too much work home. So that could possibly be—

No. Don’t focus on it. You’re here for another situation.

“Tell me what’s going on with Vriska.” You order.

“I don’t know,” Terezi says.

“I’m not in the mood for this bullshit, Terezi.” You say, “You’ve been plotting with Vriska for weeks about this. Now all of a sudden you have no idea?”

“I _don’t_!” Terezi insists, “The last I heard from Vriska was weeks ago and even then I don’t know exactly where she is in Nehetaly.”

“Did she at least tell you about Arthat? She was supposed to call him, or that’s what she told me.”

Terezi shakes her head. “The last time we talked, it was about the paperwork’s location. She was second guessing its location but then she confirmed about where it was. I…honestly don’t know why she called. I think she was in…” She pauses, scouring her memory. “I know she mentioned a hotel somewhere and she had trouble getting back in. It was in…Scamp? Scampi? Something like that…”

“Just look it up. You spoke to her online, right?”

“I did but I…erased it.”

“Erased it?”

“I had to! We were talking about the paperwork.”

You grit your teeth. Of course, Terezi would do everything to cover her ass in regards to the mess with DynamiCHEM and not give a shit about anybody else she tramples on in the way.

“Do you two care more about your stupid revenge than your own family?” you demand, “All I’ve heard from you in the past year is all about DynamiCHEM this and lawyer that. Well, you got your fucking wish! You got everything you wanted and you threw away everything that mattered in the end! I hope you’re fucking happy that you got it.”

“I did what I had to do _for_ my family.” Terezi says, “What makes what you did any different? You didn’t hesitate to fucking _kill_ people during the Night of Bullets, Karkat. You mutilated a person and used them as a bargaining chip.”

“I did what I had to do to make sure we’d all live--”

“And I did the same! I did this because DynamiCHEM ruined my mother’s life!”

“Your mother ruined her life when she stayed with a man that hit her!”

She moves to slap you for saying that but you see the hand coming. You grab the arm, holding it in your hand. Terezi looks at you with teeth clenched and tears running erratically down her face. Now that you’ve molted into adulthood, you wouldn’t have to apply a lot of pressure to break her arm.

“Are…” Terezi swallows, looking you in the eye. “...are my mother and father no different from yours? Saying that my mother deserved cancer is like saying your father deserved death and Kankri deserved to be broken.”

She yanks her hand away, stepping back from you. You remain where you are, leaning against the desk.

“None of us deserve this.” She whispers, “We just deal with what we’ve been given. And I…I _chose_ to deal with DynamiCHEM this way. They’re going to pay for what they did and my mother is going to live in comfort for once in her life! She’s going to have the things she’s _always_ deserved.” She clenches her fist. “She won’t have to worry about electricity, water, heat, or money. She’s going to retire and live on a sunny beach with not a care in the world and I’m going to be the one that’s going to do that for her! It’s the only thing I can give her.”

“But does she want that? Does she want you to tear down everything you have for her?”

“You’d do the same for your grandfather, wouldn’t you?” Terezi swallows, looking at you. Tears still run down her face. “If you had one opportunity to give him something that would make his life easier, wouldn’t you?”

“That doesn’t matter--”

“Would you?”

You can’t answer her. You’re not even sure you can look at her right now. You can’t tell her “no” immediately and the fact that you can’t just pisses you off more. Terezi swallows and finally wipes her face.

“I won’t deny what I did was wrong,” Terezi says, “but I did it for my family just like you would do anything for them. But what I still did…I didn’t realize there would be such a present danger to Arthat, that the lunatic with the gun would be there. And…I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“Good.” Terezi smiles even though it's tight and pained. “You shouldn’t forgive me. You…forgive too easily and I’m not sure if I forgive myself for everything.”

“Not this time. I…” You swallow. “I thought you were better than this, Terezi. That you were smart enough to avoid falling into the same revenge traps that our grandparents and parents did. I just...” You exhale angrily, “I’m still mad at you but I don’t want to hate you, not like how Meenah hated Dualscar or how the Dolorosa hated the Condesce. I don’t want things to escalate between our families and end in just…tragedy.”

“I don’t want that either.” Terezi whispers, “That’s…I think that’s why I kept this whole thing a secret. I didn’t want to find out and have it blow up into something huge and dangerous.” She smiles bitterly, “Turns out I fucked it all up anyways. Guess I’m smart but not smart enough.”

You remember all the times Sollux warned you about his sister, mentioning how she’s smart with books but not much else. You can’t believe there was a time that you disregarded the words of someone who’s known Terezi for far longer than you.

“And the worst part is that I’m not even sure what I did _matters_.” Terezi sighs.

Oh, a guilt trip. This ought to be good. You sit in the chair because if you’re going to be outraged, you’d rather stand when the moment sweeps over you. “Why? Because you ruined your pale quadrant?”

“That and…I think it was futile.” She admits. When you don’t add, she tilts her head. “You haven’t heard the news?”

“Obviously not.” You’ve been a little too mentally preoccupied to bother with the news lately. Even _your_ mind needs the occasional break.

Terezi sighs. “It turns out DynamiCHEM has had a lot invested in WMS. With the WMS financial crisis, the books are being turned over and a lot of numbers aren’t adding up. WMS’ stock isn’t worth anything so…neither is DynamiCHEM’s. Even without the information, DynamiCHEM might not be worth anything. With the WMS case coming to a close, they’ll downsize or maybe just shut down. NEBio wants to do business in New Jack badly and they know exactly who to push out. So…maybe it's not worth it.”

“I don’t really care about any of your corporate espionage bullshit.” You say, “Honestly, I think all of you deserve each other for screwing over everything in the end. Just do…whatever. I’m not your moirail anymore.” _You can’t force me to care about you or your problems. Not anymore. Maybe if you had been honest, I could have helped. Now I’m not bothering._

Terezi says nothing and you can’t…fuck, you hate it when she gets that look on your face. You’re not sure how aware she is of the expression she’s making but its so fucking pathetic. It just reminds you of the first couple of weeks she spent without sight.

“Fuck. Terezi. Don’t just…” you groan, “Talk to Sollux, alright? He knows a lot more things about this. Talk to your brother. Your Mom. Get a moirail. A _good_ moirail who knows how to deal with this kind of nonsense. This isn’t for me.”

“It’s not. And…I’m sorry I put you into this in the first place.”

“Good.”

And you leave just like that. You’ve learned nothing from Terezi but at least you have some…you’re not sure if ‘closure’ is the right word but that’s a chapter in the book finally finished and you’re the better for it. You get back in your car and head across the street, back to the comforts of home.

The comforts of your home are almost a total disaster area. Nessie is running around with a towel around her like a cape and makeup smeared on her face. Sonny Jr. is chasing after her with makeup also on her face. Khanie and Suxxor are playing warlords with action figures, dolls, wooden blocks, and army men. Bec sits in the corner, ignoring everything that’s going on being her usual grumpy and territorial self.

Nessie runs to you and seizes your leg. “Karka!”

You pick up Nessie as she swings her stubby legs. “Hey, munchkin. Where’s Dad?”

Nessie points to the kitchen. You put her down and you see Dave pulling something smoking out of the oven. The scent of burnt lasagna reeks through the messy kitchen.

“Whelp, so much for hoping Stuffer’s knew how to make dinner.” Dave sighs, looking at the metal pan. “I don’t even think Sonny Jr. would eat this.”

“Shouldn’t that be ‘Stouffer’s’?” you ask.

“No. _Stuffer’s_ ,” Dave says, pointing to the named label.

You glower at your kismesis. “What did I tell you about buying store-brands for frozen food? They always suck!”

“But they were on _sale_ …” Dave whines.

“That’s how they lure you in!”

“Pizza?” Nessie suggests. You look down, not having realized she’s followed you.

“Pizza!” Khanie runs into the room, eating a cookie.

“We’re not getting--” Dave starts.

“Who said pizza?” Suxxor demands.

“We’re getting pizza!” Khanie says.

“We aren’t!” Dave tries to protest but is being drowned out by the sound of children chanting “pizza”.

“Looks like you started a meme.” You say.

Dave shoos everyone out of the kitchen and takes out another frozen meal, this time chicken.

“Jade’ll kill me if we keep ordering out,” Dave grumbles.

“Where _is_ Jade?” you ask, “Usually she’s the one dealing with this insanity on the weekends.”

“Casey’s having an issue with his asthma so Jade went with Jane to the hospital because Rose is working,” Dave says.

“Poor kid. It's probably the heat getting to him.”

“I hope that’s the only thing,” Dave mutters. He has his own worries given Nessie’s muscular pains but that’s an occasional issue, not a consistent threat like asthma can be in the East. At least you _think_ Nessie’s muscular pains aren’t as bad as Casey’s bouts of asthma. You don’t know all the details of human biology. “How has Arthat been?”

“In his room. Quiet.” Dave pauses as he pulls back the plastic from the cardboard tray. “A bit _too_ quiet...”

Panic flutters in your chest. You immediately head for the kid’s room, flinging open the door. You expect Arthat to be gone, walking around the neighborhood and getting into trouble just like Khanie. Your stomach clenches as you look around the room…but Arthat is sitting on his bed, reading _Les Miserables_ without a care in the world. Snippy is curled next to him, rhythmically clicking his tiny claws.

You shut the door behind you, hoping that maybe Arthat notices the noise at least. He doesn’t, focusing entirely on his book.

“Hey,” you say, “I’m back from work.”

Arthat glances up at you and then back down to his book. “Oui.”

At first you had thought Arthat was ignoring you on purpose, but it's more like he’s so used to constant noise and distraction that he blots _everything_ out. Walking in on his personal space and startling him is never a good idea, so you pull a chair aside and make sure to keep yourself away from his ‘bubble’.

“So,” you ask, “who’s your favorite character?”

Arthat looks at you briefly but he doesn’t completely rise to the bait. “Jean ValJean.”

“Why?”

Arthat snorts. “If vous must _know_ , it is because--”

About ten minutes into Arthat’s diatribe concerning the various _Les Miserables_ characters, you have a long list of regrets. Your eyes definitely glaze over and the only reason you have some cursory knowledge of the story is because you’ve read the CliffNotes. There’s no way you can keep Arthat from reading what he wants but you want to be _aware_ of what he’s reading.

“—not like vous care anyway.” Arthat concludes, “When is Mère calling?”

“Soon.” You say, repeating the words you always say when he asks this question, “You know how it is with time differences.”

Usually Arthat shrugs off your words and returns to reading, but not this time. Instead, he shuts the book and looks at you directly.

“Vous are lying to moi.” Arthat says, “Vous better not be keeping elle from calling moi! Je’ll know if the phone is disconnected or vous have been messing with it!”

You frown. “How would you know if the phone is disconnected?” Arthat’s eyes widen and he shirks away from you. “Arthat, has…” You’re entering into dangerous territory so you have to word it carefully. “Besides Snippy, has your mother left you with other adults? Like…a babysitter?”

Arthat’s eyes narrow more. While you can tell he approves of you referring to Snippy’s authority, but his mouth tightens. After a minute he surrenders with, “Non. Sometimes there would be others there with Hecuba. Her secretaries and…others. Mère could not be in the penthouse all the time.”

“Do you…like Hecuba?” A redundant question at this point but you need to keep him talking.

“Non.” Arthat’s teeth clench, showing his small fangs. “Elle looks down on Mère and me like we were…little toys for elle to play house with. Et elle treated Snippy like…like a _bug!_ ”

“And her ‘secretaries’?”

Arthat opens his book. “No better than elle. All adults are the same.”

“Alright then.” You get out of the chair. No point in squeezing blood from a stone when it comes to your son. “Dinner will be ready in thirty.”

Arthat murmurs something and turns a page in his book. You leave the bedroom and lean against the wall, exhaling. You hear Eridan’s voice, likely coming to collect his son and chat with Dave. Even the noise of children seems dull against the pounding thoughts in your head. You’d give anything for a distraction.

Your phone vibrates, taking you from your thoughts. You look at it, hoping it’s not another emergency or maybe it’s Jade with an update.

There’s a single cerulean message.  

 

AG: I need your help.

 

Emotions wash over you but you force them back, smothering them in a thick blanket of anger. You take a deep breath and head into the bedroom because you don’t want anyone to see or hear what’s about to happen.

 

CG: CALL ME ON MY PHONE BECAUSE I’M NOT DOING THIS IN TEXT.

 

There’s a minute before a response.

 

AG: Okay.

 

You should be relieved that she’s not fighting you, but this might mean she’s in even deeper shit that you predicted. You sit on the bed, measuring your breathing and going over what you’re going to say. Its another minute before your cellphone rings.

//“Hey.”// Vriska says.

Her voice is flat and exhausted. You don’t care.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snarl, “Not only did you use our son like a godsdamned poker chip in one of your fucking schemes but you’ve been lying to me about how you’ve been living. You don’t even have the fucking decency to call our son like a _good_ mother! I’m sick of Terezi and you treating me _and my son_ like we’re nothing. Fuck the both of you and whatever mess you put your ass in _again._ So what the fuck is it this time, Vriska? You need good ol’ Karkat to break you out of a jam? You need my money or my emotional fucking support when you give me fucking _nothing_? Is that what you need?”

//“Yes.”// Vriska says, //“And I’m sorry.”//

You don’t think you’ve ever heard of Vriska sounding so tired and small. Even when the Cherubs tried to murder you all, she was shaken with anger. You don’t know what game she’s playing at, so you strain to listen to the background and try to piece together what’s going on. Background noises are loud and echoing, with foreign voices talking.

“Where are you?” you ask.

//“Waterport. My flight’s in ten hours. I’ll be back in New Jack by…I don’t know. Time zones.”// Vriska’s voice is a low mumble against the rumbling bustle of the waterport. //”I think you’ll all be asleep.”//

“You’re coming back? Tonight?” you ask, “What the hell is going on?”

//“I’m just touching down in New Jack for a few days before I leave for Chiquago.”// Vriska says.

“Why are you going _there_?”

//“I scheduled a shoot. It’s the best way to circumvent…this.”//

Whatever is going on, Vriska won’t tell you right now or maybe she won’t. You wish you cared more about her situation but you’re still angry. “You can’t just _do_ this, Vriska.” you growl, “You can’t swing me between anger and sympathy like this! Why are you fucking up _so_ badly?”

//“I don’t know. Usually things just…work out.”// Vriska admits, //“But it's not working this time and…I’m just so tired. So, I’m throwing in the towel. I just want to come home but I don’t think I have enough money for a cab from the waterport to get to my Mom’s house and I’ll be too jetlagged to drive. Can you…drive me home, Karkat?”//

You exhale.

“Yeah,” You say, hating yourself every minute, “I can do that.”

//“Thank you, Karkat.”// and then she hangs up.

You sit on the bed, absorbed in the murmured noise outside. There’s a knock at the door.

“Karkat?” Eridan asks.

You respond with a groan, flopping down on the bed. The door is slowly nudged open as your brother looks at you. When he sees how you’re laying, he shuts the door behind him and sits on the bed next to you.

“Vriska?” Eridan asks.

“Gods damned spiderbitch.” You raise your hand to your temples, always feeling a migraine looming on the horizon.

“Hey. Hey. Deep breaths.” Eridan’s thin fingers are in your hair, rubbing the area just below your horns. “She’s doing her own thing, living her own life, and making her own choices.”

“Yeah, but her choices affect me too!” you growl, “Worse, they affect Arthat. Gods know what damage she’s done--”

Eridan shushes you and continues the massage. “Not anything you can undo. You’re his father after all. You’re doing fine.” He pauses. “She didn’t kill anyone again, did she?”

“We don’t know if that guy died,” you say and hope to gods that situation never comes up again. That was _another_ huge mess you had to deal with. “And honestly? I have no idea. She sounded weird over the phone. She was just so…complacent. Calm.”

“You’re worried about her.”

You can hear the frown in his voice but he doesn’t stop massaging.

“It’s stupid.” You grunt, “I shouldn’t be concerned for her _at all._ The only reason I’m worried is for Arthat’s sake. He loves her and…I don’t even know if she feels that same level of love.” You rub your face, finally looking at your brother. “Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

“Yes,” Eridan admits, “but not right now.”

Eridan doesn’t have any solutions for you and you have no idea what questions you should ask. You remain with your head in his lap, shutting your eyes and listening to the sound of the leaves and the wind just outside your window.

 

* * *

 

 

When you wake up, the bedroom is dark and the only light comes from the alarm clock. Dave is lying in bed next to you, snoring softly and wrapped up in the thin blanket. You stagger out of bed, waking up your nerves and your legs as you make your way out of the bedroom.

The living room is lit with the TV, playing the end of some children’s cartoon. Nessie is spread out on the futon with dried tear tracts on her face and seized by deep, exhaustive sleep. The kitchen light is on so you drift toward there. Jade is pouring herself juice when she sees you out the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, you’re up.”  She says.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep.” You sigh.

“It’s alright.” Jade sits at the kitchen table. “We heard your cursing and talking on the phone so we figured Vriska finally called. Then Eridan went in and then came out saying you were taking an ‘angry nap’.”

You frown. “I’m not a kid.”

“No, but I think you deserve an angry nap after dealing with her. Gods know I would.”

You decide if you’re going to be up with Jade, you might as well get something to eat. There’s no point in being tired _and_ hungry. You take a portion of the leftover meatloaf in the fridge and sit at the table with her.

“Another bad night for Nessie?” you ask.

Jade stares into the contents of her cup. “Her body is just growing too fast and her muscles are just so stressed out. We’re still thinking about doing one of those treatments the doctor suggested for her, to slow down her growth. The only issue is they’re still not sure about all the side effects.” She sighs, “I just want her to have a normal childhood.  It’s not good for her to turn nocturnal because the pain is worse at night.”

“At least she’s a few years off from starting school.”

“I’m trying not think about _that_ nightmare.”

“What’s wrong? She’ll go to a human kindergarten.” When Jade’s face is still unsure, you prod a little more than you usually do. “Is there some reason she can’t? She’s still a human child despite how she looks.”

“I know but…it's _complicated_.” Jade sighs once again. “Nessie is still human, but her growth might make it hard for her to be in a regular classroom. She may need developmental courses or a special education. I’m not sure that can be provided to her in the city. The better-specialized schools are out in the suburbs unless we can find an exception.”

“So you’ll have to move?”

“Couldn’t afford it.” Which means that Jade _had_ looked into relocating, but she doesn’t dwell on that fact long. “We’ll think of something. We have years to do so. She’s still very young.” She gives an insincere smile. “Who knows? Maybe things will balance out in the long run.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about Vriska.” You admit, changing from Jade’s miseries to your own. “She’s in no condition to deal with Arthat, let alone speak with him.”

“I thought you were going for full custody?”

“I am, but I was hoping…” You had been hoping that Arthat could at least say goodbye to his mother or at least have weekend visitations. Now that might be off the table pending what mess she’s gotten herself into this time.

“Whatever you do, you have to do it quick. Arthat’s smarter than most kids.”

“I know.” You smile. “I’m proud.”

You don’t talk long after that. You’re still rather tired so Jade puts Nessie back in bed and joins you in the sleeping pile in the bedroom. You remain that way, the three of you fitting together perfectly as you have for what feels like years now. You only wake up when there’s an additional weight on your best and a small head nestled between your heftsacks.

Nessie, being the nighttime explorer she is, has ventured into his bedroom again and decided you’re much more comfortable than her mattress. Sometimes you wish she was still in a crib and a lot less interested in roaming when everyone else is asleep. You pick up the human girl and carry her back to her room, all while she sleepily mumbles. You tuck her into the bed, making sure that she has her favorite stuffed clown to cuddle with.

“Où est Mère?”

Arthat is sitting up in bed. The daylight from behind the blinds only let you see the accusatory look on his face.

“What?” you ask.

“Where…” Arthat grasps the bedsheet, breathing heavily. “…where is Mère? What have you done with elle?”

You sigh, rubbing your face. Only your son would pick this as an ideal time for a fight. “Arthat, this isn’t the time for--”

“Je _heard_ vous.” Arthat growls, “Mère hasn’t called me and Grandmère won’t talk to moi about it either. What did _vous_ do?”

“What makes you assume _I’m_ the one who did something?”

“Because it’s _always_ vous.” Arthat huffs, “Vous are always the one who ruins things! It was fine with just Mère and me but then vous came along. Vous…ruin everything!”

You should really just be ignoring him. Arthat’s only a child and Vriska has been the only adult in life. This is a new experience for the both of you and you’re the adult here…but hearing those words come out of his mouth just makes something… _snap._ A hairline fracture goes right through the center of your compassion and understanding; the dam that holds back the tidal wave of your anger. It's not enough to break the damage but it’s certainly sprung a leak.

“If she loves you so much, then why isn’t she here?” There’s an unrecognizable chill in your voice.

“Elle’s working--”

“Is she?” Arthat wants to protest, wants to argue, and lay out his logic but you don’t have time for it. “Arthat,” you order, “I had a _long_ day. So do me a fucking favor for once and go the fuck back to sleep.”

Arthat sinks immediately in the bed. He turns over, wrapping the blankets close around him. You doubt he’s asleep but you’re a little too tired to care. You leave the bedroom with regret washing over you in waves. You decide that there’s no way you’re sleeping after that confrontation, so you take a shower and try to look at some bills.

You go through the motions because sometimes that’s what you have to do to survive adulthood from time to time.


	2. what it is

For a handful of days, Arthat and you circle each other like planets in a cautious orbit. You don’t know how (or even _if_ ) you should apologize and Arthat is likely the same. Or maybe Arthat doesn’t give a fuck. You wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. Vriska conditioned him to indifferent, distant parenthood and now you’re both chafing against the situation. You’re almost relieved on Friday night when Eridan invites you over his trailer for a movie marathon. You think its just going to be you and the usual gang of little monsters, but when you arrive at the Captor-Ampora trailer, it's nearly empty.

“Don’t tell me you sold them to the circus.” You joke.

“Like any circus would tolerate Suxxor for longer than a few seconds.” Eridan snorts.

Eridan introduces you to a romcom anime called _Princess Jellyfish_ and gives a cursory explanation of the situation: Momeju and Dmitry with Feferi’s family, Suxxor is hanging out with Torken, and Sollux is out shopping with Latula and Mituna. You feel like Latula is a ghost nowadays. Since she’s so weak lately, she hardly comes out of the bedroom. You think it’s a small miracle that Sollux can go _anywhere_ with her.

“Okay, what’s the deal?” you ask.

Eridan looks at you but there’s the unmistakable look of guilt on his face. “What?”

“You went through _a lot_ of effort to make sure it was just us.” You say, “So you’re either planning something or going to ask me something _really_ outrageous.”

Eridan has a guilt look and finally shrugs. “It’s a bit of both, really…”

“Out with it.” You’ve already had a shitty time with Arthat. Might as well have a shitty time with your brother.

“I want you to bring me with you when you see Vriska.” You start but Eridan insists, “Karkat, you don’t make good decisions when you’re around Terezi or Vriska and I think things are still really… _raw_ for you in regards to what you’re going to do about them. I don’t have to listen in on all your conversations but I think you should have someone for your emotional support too. It's unfair that Vriska gets to monopolize _your_ time and energy about this. What about you? What about _your_ needs?”

You try to think of how to protest against this…but you can’t. Eridan’s backed you into a logical corner with his proposal and honestly? You _don’t_ want to go alone to the waterport to deal with Vriska by yourself. You’re already going to have to be up at four in the morning to deal with her. With your half-asleep brain, who knows what you’ll do or say.

“You’ll have to get up at four and its an hour to the waterport.” You say.

Eridan nods. “That’s fine. I’m taking some time off from 7-11 before I start my new job.”

Your eyes widen. “You finally found a place?”

Eridan smiles. “Yeah, apparently I did fine in my interview with Paradise Meadows. I _had_ gotten a call from Runestone Gardens Lifecare but, uh, I’d rather not _go_ there.”

You don’t blame him. Not only is Runestone Gardens all the way in the ass-end of the city but its where the Dolorosa and Mindfang had their last moments. You think everyone in your family has had their fill of dealing with _that_ place.

“Paradise Meadows is nice. Well, nice for a senior troll and lizard home.” Eridan continues, “It's in Twelve Acres so there’s scene at least.”

“Twelve Acres? Eridan, that’s nearly on the other side of the city.”

Eridan nods. “It’s a long commute but with the money we can afford to send the boys to the church daycare. I was against it, but honestly, the church has the best price compared to other places. Aside from the prayer time, they’re pretty agnostic. Since they’re related to Momeju, we don’t have to go to the church anyway. Plus, Momeju will be able to make friends easier with Suxxor and Dmitry there. Maybe they’ll fight a little less…”

You’re glad at least things are getting easier between Feferi and him. Despite Sollux’s groaning and the entire thing being another one of Meenah’s near-disastrous ideas, the family weekend getaway is working out better for everyone so far. There’s been a lot less fighting and you having to make awkward conversation with Sollux while Eridan argues with Feferi over the phone. 

“I’m glad it’s working.” You say, “See? That weekend trip wasn’t so bad.”

“I guess so!” Eridan laughs. “Oh, speaking of that, there is one thing…”

“Need me to watch Suxxor for the weekend while Sollux and you distress from dealing with him?”

“I wish.” Eridan sighs, “This is a bit more…complicated. See, Fef and I have been talking--”

You frown. “You’re not getting back together are you?”

“No! _Gods_ no!” Eridan huffs, “Fef and I were talking about her visions and I have a theory on how we could end them once and for all. We want to try something…different.”

“Oh, that doesn’t make me worry at all…” you grumble.  Whenever someone suggests resolving a medical issue ‘differently’ it results in someone being hurt or trying some New Age hocus-pocus cure-all. You’re especially not sure since Eridan has that fucking cursed book of Nepeta’s. You wish you had burned it instead of giving it back to him. “It’s not anything from that… _book_ is it?”

“No.”

“Is it from a website that sells crystals and snake-shaped candleholders?”

“No!” Eridan folds his arms, “Jeez, Kar, you make me sound like a snake oil salesman.”

“Sometimes you are.” You pause, “No offense.”

“Some taken.” Eridan huffs, “Just because something isn’t the typical answer doesn’t mean it’s incorrect. You have to admit that given all the strange situations we find ourselves in, it wouldn’t hurt to try an equally strange solution.”

“And how ‘strange’ is this idea, exactly?”

“Well…its working off a theory Fef and I have. We both know you had problems with the genetic memories from your grandfather. I mean you turned into _that_ ”—Eridan gestures to your current appearance—“just by molting. The big difference is that your grandfather was an all-around okay guy for Alternia. Feferi’s grandmother wasn’t and we think that for her, we should try to get rid of the memories. We tried anti-psionics but its not working, so we figure there must be something else we’re missing. Kanaya, Meenah, and me have spoken to the cluster of memories. Its… _sentient_ in a way your grandfather was and its invasive like a virus. It wants control of her body. It wants to live again.”

You’re about to wave away Eridan’s ridiculous idea until you hear those words. _It wants to live again._ You think of the time when the trailer sunk into the mud, nearly claiming your lives as well. You think of being on Alternia, seeing, tasting, and smelling the same things your grandfather did. You think of your grandfather’s knowledge and memories, but it was always benign…until the end when it became invasive.

You have seen some weird, fucked up shit and never even set foot on Alternia. Hell, there is no Alternia _to_ set foot on anymore.

“Okay…” you mutter, “…let’s say I’m interested in this theory of yours. What else have you found out about it?”

“Kanaya and I have been talking with Meenah and Aranea about getting some more information.” Eridan gets up and returns to the room with a notebook. He opens it, showing you page after page of scribbled notes and black and white photocopies from ancient journals and scripture. “We’ve been taking notes, trying to learn all we can about this spirit. Even Feferi and Meenah aren’t sure but Aranea--”

“—has my grandfather’s journal--” You conclude.

Eridan nods. “She’s still not done translating it but she’s gotten a few notes down, plus she’s been cross-referencing with Aradia since she has access to NJCU’s library.”

“You’ve been busy.”

Eridan shrugs. “Well, you gotta do _something_ during that three in the morning downtown at 7-11.” He turns to a page, listing dates, annotations, and copious question marks. “There’s a lot of blank spots in Alternian history before the Condesce’s rule but we were able to piece together _some_ facts. We know there was another queen that ruled before the Condesce, but she didn’t control an empire but a small queendom. She also wasn’t the only queen, as what she controlled was surrounded by fiefdoms ruled by a variety of hemocastes. The Despisal. Aside from her name, she’s been erased from history along with the other rulers of the hemo-dynasties.”

“Wait,” you say, “you’re telling me _way_ _before_ the Condesce was around, there were other kings and queens?”

Eridan nods and turns to another photocopied page. It’s a pottery painting that’s been scratched out but you can make out the distinct presence of a tall troll in ancient regalia with tall prong-shaped horns standing amongst other trolls.

“This is from an urn that survived the Starfall that Aradia found in the university library.” Eridan continues, “It shows an ancient troll that _can’t_ be the Condesce. Just look at how she’s dressed. Not only that but it predates her. This is likely the only image we have of the Despisal and its heavily damaged.”

“So, the Condesce moves in and decides to eliminate all stories of her rival.” You say, “But why? I mean, she’s immortal and no one else is. Why bother? People are going to forget who she is even if they have a record of her. Why go through the effort?”

“That’s the trick of it.” Eridan adds, “We think the Condesce had some kind of… _grudge_ against the Despisal. We don’t know a lot about the Despisal’s reign but we know that the Condesce and the Grand Highblood lived through it. I think _something_ happened and that’s why the Despisal is hanging onto Feferi so hard. There’s something she needs to say or do before she moves on.”

“Like a ghost.” _Or the demon of an ancient sea-queen that’s currently living in my half-sister’s body._ Gods, when did your life get so fucking _weird?_

“Here’s the idea.” Eridan says, “We put Fef in a hypnotic trance state and speak with the Despisal. Then we’re going to ritualistically kill her so she remembers that she’s dead.” He flips to another page, holds up a diagram of two trolls in a water-battle with tridents. “There was a specific way the ascension ceremony went on Alternia. We think we can simulate that using fake tridents and fuchsia paint for blood.”

“So, you want to pretend to kill Feferi?”

“ _Meenah’s_ going to pretend to kill Feferi.”

“Meenah agreed to this? Wait, _Meenah_ agreed to one of _your_ ideas?”

Eridan nods. “It took some convincing but that’s why we need you. We’re all going to be there to make sure its safe for everyone. We also need you because Aranea is certain that the Despisal kept a mutant or perhaps limeblood consul. It’s the reason why Gamzee is going to be there, fulfilling the role of his father.” He tilts his head. “Are you feeling alright? You look kind of…freaked out.”

You look away. “I just get an uneasy feeling about things like this. Suppressed memories. Weird ancestors. Undead queens…this is the kind of thing that we shouldn’t have to constantly deal with. Honestly, I’d rather deal with my exes and a custody battle than have to deal with something a lot…more.”

“That’s understandable. I feel the same way to a point,” Eridan says, looking down, “but we can’t just ignore this while it ruins Feferi’s life. I… feel responsible. Feferi’s fits weren’t so bad until I screwed things up. I think the reason why the queen has so much power over her was fucking me was the first real action she took. Feferi wasn’t in control and neither was I. She both ruined our lives and…sometimes I feel she knew that. She may not be aware she’s dead but that doesn’t mean she’s _not_ a bitch.”

“I don’t think fuchsiablood queens were going to be nice, given what was happened historically.” You look at your half-brother. “Are you _sure_ this is going to be safe?”

Eridan nods. “We’re going to be as safe as possible with this. We don’t want anyone getting hurt, especially Feferi.”

You’re going to be hanging out with Aranea anyway, so you might as well deal with this along with your custody issue between Vriska and you. “Alright, but I get some babysitting help with Arthat when the time comes. He’s going to be a pain I bet when the time comes along and I’m sure I’ll have to bounce him between you and Kankri for a bit. It…” You shake your head. “I feel like such an asshole doing this to him. Even though its for the best, I still hate having to do it. I can’t really explain why I hate it so much though.”

“You want to be a good parent, Kar.” Eridan says with a smile, “That’s all you really can be.”

You sigh. “I guess.” You nod to Eridan, “Just tell me what you need to do.”

“We’ll let you know.” Eridan says, “I doubt the ritual with Feferi is going to happen anytime soon. We just need to secure what’s going on. Most of this is going to be planning and then a final movement.”

You don’t know what this could mean. It sounds so strange with Eridan talking so serious about this and even calling it a ‘ritual’ like it’s a big spiritual thing when you’re just putting Feferi into a hypnotic state. It could go in any direction, really. You just hope that it goes somewhere that won’t result in absolute chaos.

“Alright.” you sigh.

What else can you say when your brother needs your help?

 

* * *

 

 

You go home in the evening to a house that is always loud and bright because you have two hyperactive young girls running around. Nessie is being dragged back inside and disagreeing about the amount of playtime she’s had (mostly by yelling) and Khanie is running circles around Dave trying to get him to look at something in a shoebox.

When the tealblood sees you come through the door, she runs over. “Karkat, look what I found!”  

“I’m not looking at another bug, Khanie,” you sigh.

“It’s not a bug… _this_ time.” Khanie mumbles.

“I’m not looking at any dead animals either.” You sit down so you can take off your shoes, “Why do you keep picking up this stuff?”  

Khanie upturns her nose. “You don’t understand how cool things are. You’re so boring!”

“Uh huh. Where’s your brother?”

Khanie sticks out her tongue. “Who?”

You pause, rethinking what you just said. Dave is too busy hauling a mud-covered Nessie into the bathroom and you look back at the teal. “I mean Arthat. Where’s Arthat?”

“I don’t care. He’s a jerk.”

“ _Khanie.”_

Khanie stomps away, snubbing you for refusing to partake in gawking at whatever she found on the road this time. As one of the many adult figures in her life, you should show _some_ interest in her hobbies—no matter how weird and gross they are.

“Fine, show me what’s in the box.” You sigh.

“No way!” Khanie huffs. “Only cool people like Papa and Dad can see what’s in my awesome box.”

“Aw, man, I really want to see it.” You shrug. “I guess I’ll just look at what Nessie brought inside--”

Khanie immediately runs back over. “She doesn’t have because she’s a lame baby!” She opens the shoebox, revealing a large dead squirrel inside. “Isn’t it cool?”

“Ugh! _No!_ ” You stand up, putting distance between you and the dead squirrel. “Khanie! Throw that away!”

Khanie covers up the shoebox. “No way! Its mine! I’m gonna stuff it!” She scampers off before you can call for Dirk, Jake, Dave, or literally _anyone but you_ to deal with yet another dead animal Khanie has dragged into the house.

Dave comes out of Nessie and Arthat’s room, cracking his back. “Jeez, that girl puts up a fight whenever she doesn’t want to sleep.” he mutters.

“Nessie rebelling at nap time again?” you ask.

“Well, first it was the bath time and then a nap.” Dave admits, “She’s getting into that habit of copying Khanie and since Khanie doesn’t take as many naps…” He shrugs. “You know how it is.”

You nod. Dmitry is already trying to copy Suxxor’s way of quickly talking himself out of trouble. Luckily he’s had no success doing so or Eridan and Sollux would have _another_ problem to deal with. “Where’s Jade?”

“Food shopping with Jake. I hope they make responsible choices this time around.” Dave takes off his shades, cleaning them with a cloth. “I’m going to be working for the next few hours. Arthat is sitting on the back porch pretending he’s too good for fun.”

“How’s he been?”

“Same as he’s been all week: quiet.”

“Yeah, ‘quiet’.” You sigh.

“Don’t be so down on yourself, Crabcrab. He’s still learning how to be around you. You know how kids have their moods.” He raises an eyebrow. “Especially _your_ kids.”

“Tell me about it.” You wonder if its genetically possible for you to ever have a mellow kid with your high strung genes.

You go out to the back porch where Arthat is sitting on a lawn chair with a book resting n his lap. He’s still going through _Les Miserables_ and Snippy is sitting under his chair, clicking and chirping like any content insect.

“Hey,” you say, “we need to talk.”

“Je haven’t done anything,” Arthat says, not looking at you.

“It’s not about that.” You sit in the lawn chair next to him, “I didn’t mean to yell at you before. I know you miss your mother a lot. I…miss her too.”

“Vous do not miss elle.” Arthat snorts, “If vous missed elle, vous would not have let elle leave in the first place. Vous would have visited elle more often. Vous do not care about elle or moi.”

“Arthat, I care about you both. I don’t work as hard as I do just for fun, you know. I want you to have a lot more than I had as a kid.” Arthat still doesn’t look at you. Its futile to convince him about how much you care and he’s not old enough to know the complicated truth of your childhood. If you want to reach Arthat, you need to speak his language. “Listen, if you give me a chance, I’ll make it worth your while. Just tell me what you want.”

Arthat snaps his books shut and stands. “Je want _nothing_ from vous!” he hisses before walking back inside.

It’s not a completely disastrous interaction but it’s not an improvement either. You’re still missing a necessary connection with your son—the glue that will cement your relationship into stability. Right now you’re doing a jigsaw puzzle in the dark trying to figure out how to earn even a modicum of his trust and respect.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why the fuck am I awake?” Eridan mumbles.

“Because you insisted on coming.” You remind him for the fifth time.

Its four in the morning. You’re both sipping lattes trying to stay awake as you drive along the wet road. The sky is pissing rain like it just went binge drinking last night and every light hurts your tired eyes. You’re sure Eridan is regretting his offer to come with you to pick up Vriska, but its too late now. You’re already halfway to the waterport.

“Why do we even have a waterport? Why not an airport like any sane city?” Eridan asks.

“How the hell should _I_ know?” That’s really something Aranea would know, or maybe Kankri since he’s getting more into politics and city planning. 

The waterport hasn’t changed at all from the last time you were here. The same kiosks with the same overpriced junk and the small crowds of people entering and leaving the city. At this time of the year, its mostly tourists getting their bearings before heading to the hotels or before hopping the bus to Midway City. Eridan and you stand among the crowds, looking at people enter and leave the numbered gates under the watchful eyes of security.

“Did Vriska tell you which gate she’d be at?” Eridan asks.

“Yeah, she texted me the number earlier.” You look around but don’t see any signs of a surly ceruleanblood with too much hair. “Shit, there’s like coldbloods all over. What’s even going on?”

Eridan turns his head and pulls on your sleeve. “Kar, look!”  he whispers.

You try to ignore your brother but he’s insistent. You turn your head and see a tour guide leading a group of trolls and salamanders around. You have no idea why someone is having a tour guide at three in the fucking morning but going by the clothes and appearances alone, they must be from another country and yet to be susceptible to the clock like normal people. They’re definitely talking in a foreign language but it sounds…familiar.

Eridan is squinting, trying to piece together the words. “Do you understand what they’re saying?” you ask.

“Sort of. I think its Alternian.” Eridan says, “They have some kind of accent though so I’m only picking up on a few words.”

You’re not exactly sure where they’re from. All of them are wearing black and grey and intensely listening to the tour guide. Most of them are seatrolls and close to your age or maybe a few years older.

“Could it be a school trip?” you ask.

“Maybe college?” Eridan suggests.

As interesting as that is, that’s not the reason why you’re here. You keep looking through the crowd for signs of Vriska. Finally, a familiar face moves among the crowd coming out the gate. “There she is!” you say.

Vriska doesn’t push through the crowd. She ambles over, staring ahead. She doesn’t even have a luggage bag, just her school backpack. Her clothes are as expensive and haute couture as ever but rumpled, as if she spent the last two days sleeping in them. There’s no makeup on her face, making the bags under her eyes more obvious.

“Hey.” She mutters.

You stare at her. Even Eridan who was still pissed at her is left silent.

“Vriska…?” you mutter.

“Yeah.” Vriska nods, “We better get going before traffic picks up.”

Neither of you know what to say. Vriska doesn’t give you time to argue and keeps moving, walking through the waterport. You follow closely and study her body, trying to find obvious signs of something else going on: bruises, discoloration, or a mysterious injection site. You don’t find any though; no hint as to what the fuck is really going on. Eridan and you had gone through so much planning for conflict and fighting at your reunion. Instead you have…nothing.

Once again your anger has been smothered by your need to figure out just what the fuck is going on.

You can’t question Vriska about what’s going on though. She’s too exhausted to give you a real answer anyway. The drive back to the neighborhood is quiet. Vriska sits in the back seat and eventually slumps over, falling asleep. Eridan and you exchange puzzled looks but maintain the silence. Still, you’re glad to have him along because he’s able to text Aranea to expect you.

Vriska is still asleep when you arrive at Aranea’s, so you carry her in. It’s not very difficult since—like Terezi—she’s never weighed very much. Aranea instructs you to put her on the couch. Even in the early morning, Aranea is dressed and ready for the day.

“She fell asleep? Just like that?” Aranea asks.

You nod. “As soon as she got in the car. Basically passed out.”

Aranea studies you and then offers a sympathetic smile. “You look like you could use some breakfast.”

If she hadn’t offered, you were going to insist she treat you for tolerating her daughter more than any sane troll should.

Aranea is a quick cook, serving you an omelet and toaster waffles. It feels like you’re entirely alone in the trailer although you can Horuss loudly snoring elsewhere. (Love must be the only reason she tolerates such a noise.) You can’t hear Eukary at all, though he’s likely still awake and sneakily reading like Themma and Simham do.

Aranea sits across from you, stirring her coffee. “Vriska has never been a heavy sleeper.” She says, “Even being in a car could make her anxious. Kanaya was the one who always fell asleep first. I guess twins are like that.”

“I guess.”

Another pause. The ceruleanblood sips her coffee and then steeples her fingers.

“You know what you have to do.”

“I’m aware, I’m not going to tell her like this. She looks like she’s been through a lot.”

“So has Arthat.”

You hate how quickly she cuts to the heart of the situation. “I don’t see you rushing in to tell her.”

“It’s not my place. Arthat is still your son.”

You frown and focus on eating your omelet before your temper seizes your tongue. “Just because I’m not bombarding her doesn’t mean I’m _not_ mad.”

Arthat exhales slowly. “How is Arthat?”

“He’s…himself.” When you think of your son, all you see are his bright cerulean eyes full of unyielding hatred toward everything and everyone except for his lusus and his mother. You’re not innocent of making him that way. “He blames me for her not being around.”

Aranea nods. “Arthat thinks he’s as intelligent as an adult, but he’s still a child. He doesn’t understand the true danger his mother and Terezi placed him in. To him, its nothing more than a game. Don’t let him get to you, Karkat. Children are heartless.”

You shake your head. “Arthat’s not heartless. He’s… _himself._ ”

Aranea clears her throat.

“Let me make something clear,” she says, “when I say ‘heartless’ I don’t mean as to say ‘cruel’. I mean ‘heartless’ as in children don’t have a concept of the world outside of their needs. They’re selfish and right now, you stand in the way of Arthat getting what he wants. You’re the enemy. You can’t take his desires seriously.”

“I don’t.” you lie.

The living room couch creaks. Footsteps stumble toward the kitchen and Vriska leans in. Her hair is splayed over her face, making her appear like a long-haired ghost.

“I smell coffee.” She whispers.

Aranea smiles. “Awake?”

Vriska rubs her eyes. “Not really.”

The room is suddenly stifling. You can’t stay here with Vriska staring at you in this condition. You want to feel bad for her but you’re also blindingly angry at her.

You don’t bother finishing your breakfast. You mutter a thank you to Aranea and hurry out the door and away from the trailer. You nearly run back to the car, climbing in.

“Kar?” Eridan stops fiddling with the radio momentarily and looks at you. “Holy shit, Kar, breathe.”

“I-I am breathing.” You stammer. You try to put the key in the engine, try to drive but you drop it. You curse and your heart is hammering in your chest. You feel like your chest might explode.

“Hey. Hey. Easy, Kar. Easy.” Eridan reaches over, turns your head.

“I have to go—I need to go home—and--” you mutter.

“No, you don’t. You need to take a deep breath. You can’t drive like this.” Eridan’s voice is low and soothing. He strokes the side of your face and his touch is cold and welcoming. “Just focus on me. That’s all you need to do…”

Your breathing is shallow. You feel dizzy but you do as he says. You focus on his violet eyes, feeling the world rock and shake around you like you’re on a tumultuous boat. Eridan keeps shushing you, holding you and stroking you.

“Its going to be alright.” Eridan whispers.

“Its never alright.” you choke.

 

 

“Yes, it is.” Eridan doesn’t let you go and doesn’t stop shushing you. “It’s a brand new day, Kar. It’s a beautiful rainy morning. It’s a new day ahead. The sun is bright and the clouds are smiling…”

The words sound familiar and it’s a minute before you place it.

“Is…that the fucking Squiddle Song?” you ask.

Eridan pauses. “Um, maybe? I don’t know. Its just the first thing that came to mind.”

You should be pissed. Instead, you start laughing. Eridan laughs too. You both start laughing so hard there are tears in your eyes. Eridan wipes yours away and you do the same to him.

“You’re the best brother a troll could ever have.” You sniff. 

“So are you.” He sniffs.


	3. my other boyfriend’s brother who is also my other other boyfriend

**== >Karkat: Be Sollux for a while**

 

“Pops. Pops. Poooooopsssssss…”

You groan. You’re tunneled deep into your recuperacoon because you’ve had an especially irritating migraine tonight but of course, that doesn’t last long because you have kids. Nothing lasts long with them around. When your surface out of the slime, Suxxor is squinting at you with his suspicious little face.

“Please tell me the house is burning down.” You mutter.

Suxxor holds up a box of frozen waffles. “I’m hungry!”

“Suxxor, for the last time, you don’t eat until--” You turn your head to see what time it even is at the moment. The clock informs you that its seven in the morning, so that’s a fair time to feed your son. You sigh and climb out of the recuperacoon. “You’re lucky we don’t live on the homeworld because I would eat you.”

“I’m too tough for your teeth, old man.” Suxxor growls.

“I doubt that and don’t call me ‘old man’.” You should seriously start policing what Suxxor watches because he’s picking up all kinds of language you’d rather not have him repeat. At least not while he’s still living with you.

Suxxor follows you out of the bedroom. “Can we have McDonald's?”

“No, Suxxor.” You say.

“McDonald's?” Mituna asks, talking over his videogame. He’s sitting in the living room playing Cod of War for the hundredth time. Latula is sleeping n the couch next to him.

“No!” you insist.

“Grandpa wants McDonald's!” Suxxor says.

The bedroom door opens and Dmitry runs out. His face is caked with makeup. “ _McDonald's_?”

“We’re not getting McDonald's! We have food in the house!” You repeat. Suxxor and Mituna groan and then you look at Dmitry. “Dmitry, have you been sneaking your father’s makeup _again_?”

Dmitry looks down. “N-no…”

“Yes, you have! Wash that off and put Eridan’s makeup back!”

 “No! I look pretty!” Dmitry runs back into the bedroom and slams the door.

You mentally file that situation away in the ‘things-for-Eridan-to-deal-with’ category and enter the kitchen. You look through the fridge, wondering what you’re going to make to get Suxxor off your back. Of course, it would be a lot easier if Suxxor would give you space, but no. That would make your life too easy. Instead, he decides to completely underfoot.

“Pops, how come you have to sleep in slime?” Suxxor asks.

“I get headaches.” There’s not much in the fridge, meaning you have to go food shopping. There’s two eggs left so you grab those.

“Is it gross?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you eat it?”

“No, Suxxor, and if you try to get Dmitry to eat it you’re grounded.”

Suxxor pouts. “I wasn’t gonna do _that_...” He pauses, “Can you sleep in other things? Like jello?”

You have no clue but you don’t want to give the little shit ideas either. “Suxxor, give me the waffles and go play with Grandpa.”

“Okay!” and Suxxor tosses the frozen waffles to you and runs off.

You realize a second later that Mituna is prone to cursing like a drunken sailor who just found out they lost their job and their wife was cheating n them in the same night, but it’s a little late for that. You’ll just have to hope Suxxor will at least mispronounce some of those words. You focus on making breakfast for everyone because that’ll settle one problem.

“Pops!” Suxxor says from the doorway.

“Suxxor, I’m busy cooking.” You say.

“Mom is at the door with Uncle Karkat,” Suxxor says.

“What?” You look at your son. “What’s going on?”

Suxxor holds out his hand. “I kind of forgot…”

“Are you serious? I’m not giving you anymore allowance!” you insist.

“Why not?” Suxxor pouts.

“Because your room’s a mess and secondly, this isn’t the time for that!” You turn off the oven and put the waffles in the toaster. “Suxxor, watch the toaster to make sure the waffles don’t burn.”

“But I can’t--”

“Just do it!” You hurry out of the kitchen, looking at the front door.

Eridan is dragging in Karkat with limited success. Karkat looks half-awake and a little delirious.

“Eridan, I’m fine…” Karkat mumbles.

“Like hell you are, Kar! You need to rest!” Eridan insists.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Kar needs a break.” Eridan lightly shoves Karkat forward. “He wants to drive home but there’s no way I’m letting him do that.”

“I live right down the street!” Karkat groans.

“And that’s still enough distance to get into an accident!”

Your matesprit looks drained as if he’s ready to fall over. You sigh and pat him on the shoulder. The mutantblood glowers at you, once again stubbornly refusing to do something that will only have benefits for his health. “KK just lay down for a few minutes. It couldn’t hurt.” You say.

Karkat tries to put up an argument but sighs. “Alright, fine. But only for a few minutes!”

He walks off to your bedroom, quickly kicks off his shoes, and climbs onto the bed. He wraps himself in the blanket and within a minute he’s asleep. You turn off the lights and shut the door so he’s not disturbed by the sounds of the rest of the house waking up.

“How bad was the fight?” you whisper to Eridan. You know that Karkat was meeting with Vriska this morning but you had no idea about the details. You were against him even doing this much for someone that broke his heart without a second thought.

Eridan shakes his head. “There wasn’t a fight.” He sighs, “Vriska was out of it. She passed out in the car. I have no idea what’s going on. I think Karkat said something to her or Aranea because he freaked out later on and uh…” His cheeks turn violet.

You squint at your kismesis. “What happened?”

“It's not a big deal! We just--”

“Pops! The toaster’s on fire!” Suxxor calls.

“ _What_?” You run past Eridan and back to the kitchen.

The smell of incredibly burnt waffles is thick in the kitchen. It's not on fire but you think two more minutes in the toaster and the waffles are likely to turn into ashes. You pop them out and look at Suxxor. “I told you to take out the waffles!”

Suxxor throws up his arms. “I can’t reach the counter!”

“What? That’s not--” You look at the counter where the toaster sits and then to Suxxor. The countertop is several inches taller than Suxxor and the toaster is pushed toward the back. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

Suxxor grins. “So McDonald's?”

“McDonald's?” Mituna calls from the living room.

“ _Neither_ of you are getting McDonald's!” Eridan walks into the kitchen and pushes you aside. “Suxxor, you can reach the counter easily. Did you forget to stand on a chair?” The violetblood grabs his apron off the hanger. He tries it on quickly and looks at you, “And Sol, have you been cooking _right after_ getting out of slime?”

“Suxxor just woke me up--” you whine.

“That’s unsanitary! What if it gets in the food? Go wash it off.” Eridan goes over to the half-cooked eggs you made. “Suxxor, if you’re going to stand here you better help. Go out into the yard and get some sweet potatoes and the plant wash from under the sink.”

Suxxor grumbles and walks off to the back door.

“Can we have pancakes instead?” Dmitry asks, peeking into the kitchen.

“No, and wipe off that makeup.” Eridan turns on the oven without even turning around.

“But Momeju gets to wear makeup!” Dmitry whines.

“No, she doesn’t.” Eridan answers.

Dmitry grumbles and stomps off.

You have no idea how Eridan developed his ‘Mom sense’ but you don’t want to tangle with it either. You quickly head to the bathroom and shower off as much of the dried slime as you can. You change into fresh clothes and when you leave your bedroom, Eridan is serving the boys breakfast and Mituna is eating toast and gaming like nothing’s happened.

Your day goes as it usually does on the weekends. You have a meal with the boys, drop them off for Meenah to deal with for a little while, and get some work done. Your freelance coding is bringing in the money you need to keep the lights on but its time-consuming. You barely have personal time with you having to divide it between the kids and work. You have no idea how Tavros does it working third shift, along with the long commute out to sea.

Around noontime the bed rustles and Karkat sits up. “What time is it…?” he mutters.

“Twelve four.” You spin in your chair, looking at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted.” Karkat rubs his forehead. His hair is a mess and he looks completely tired. You leave the chair, climbing into bed with him. You kiss him on the forehead but he moves away, “Stop it, I’m fucking gross and sweaty…”

You smirk. “You’re always gross and sweaty.”

“I should go home…” Karkat mumbles but doesn’t move.

“Relax. ED took care of it.” You rest your head on his chest. “The world’s not going to end if you take a day off to relax.”

Karkat wants to keep protesting but his breathing easing and he continues to not move. You lay there, cuddled together and feeling like you’re entirely separate from everything else going on in the world right now. Now only the two of you exist.

“We should go somewhere,” Karkat says.

“I hope you have spare cash for that ‘somewhere’ because I sold our timeshare in Los Jaspers.”

“Damn. And here I was hoping to enjoy some slots.” Karkat lapses into silence a moment later, only to sit up. You’re tossed off of the bulky mutantblood, falling onto the floor without ceremony. “Hold on a second, I _do_ have a place!” Then he looks at you, “Shit, you okay?”

You sit up, looking at him from the floor. “Yeah, but warn a guy when you’re going to randomly pole vault him across the room. It's like getting tossed by Thor.”

“Noted,” Karkat says, “but I do have a place that we can go right now.”

You rest your chin in your palm, looking up at him. “I’m not up for hanging out at Chumhandle’s. Their slushies are too good and I’d rather not become diabetic.”

“Not Chumhandles. It’s in East New Jack. I have a place that we can hang out. It's not entirely furnished but, well, it’s a good place and I wanted to show you.”

“What in the hell could be all the way out in East New Jack that we could hang out?”

Karkat grins. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me on this grand adventure.”

You sigh. As much as you’d love to refuse Karkat’s idea of a quick road trip, you’re a little too curious about where this secret place could be. “Okay, fine. It’s not like we’re doing anything better.”

It's rare that you two would have time on your own. You write a note for Eridan so he doesn’t panic when Karkat and you have disappeared. Then Karkat jumps in your Mom’s car and leaves the neighborhood. The only stop you make is at 7-11 to pick up snacks and drinks for the road. Karkat doesn’t give you a lot of details about the place you’re driving to, so you make conversation about everything else that’s going on in your lives. With the kids around, everything is constantly in a tailspin of _something_ happening.

You’re expecting Karkat to pull you up to a fruit stand that also sells really good ice cream or one of those roadside petting zoos. You’re not expecting when he takes you to a farmhouse that looks like it hasn’t been lived in for decades. The car drives up the dirt path, stopping right in front of the wood porch.

Karkat gets out the car and stretches. “This is it?”

“It’s…huge.” You get out the car, staring the farmhouse down.

There have to be at least three floors and its wide; the kind of place that would house generations of family members under one roof like on _The Iguana Waltons._ There’s more land around it than you’ve ever seen, even in the New Jack suburbs, and you can see a barn placed several feet away out near the orchard of trees.

“What is this place? Don’t tell me it’s _another_ haunted manor.” You ask.

“No, this place isn’t even half as rundown.” Karkat approaches the door and unlocks it with a key.

There’s nothing inside excludes the dust. You’re surprised it’s not damp, suffering from the same leaking and drainage issues that Zahhak Manor was. Karkat gives you a brief tour of the first floor, pointing out the foyer, bedrooms, garage, laundry, rear porch, and living rooms. You have no idea how someone could tolerate living in a place like this.

“I feel like I might get lost if we go upstairs.” Your voice echoes through the large, empty rooms, “How did you find this place?”

Karkat shrugs. “A happy accident, I guess. Its come a long way though. Check it out.” He flips a switch and a ceiling light turns out, filling the room with a dull yellow shine. “The lights are old and dusty but at least there’s power.”

“Yeah, but who owns it?”

“It’s a joint ownership between Rufioh and myself.”

You question how long Karkat has been keeping this place a secret and what for. Still, he shows you around upstairs which is starting to feel more like a maze of rooms and then there’s the cellar which is nearly full of boxes. All of them have different labels, mostly handwritten saying _Canned food, MRE, Weapons (Guns), Weapons (Not Guns),_ and _Ammo._

“Did you buy out some crazy person’s garage?” you ask.

Karkat laughs. “Well, yeah! I guess Jade’s grandfather was a low-key doomsday prepper because he had _tons_ of stuff. She couldn’t sell most of it without a lot of legal headaches so I bought it off of her.”

You look into one of the boxes. “This is a box of knives.”

Karkat shrugs. “That’s one reason why its here and not in my trailer.”

After that, you return to the back porch. The insects are buzzing loudly in your ear and the tall grass is full of more animals than you’ve ever seen in your neighborhood. Cars move up and down the street, but they’re distant—as if they’re in another city altogether.

“Is it always so quiet?” you ask.

“Usually, yes. There’s not that many neighbors and most people keep to themselves unless they need to restock.” Karkat says, “I think the closest thing to a town center is that there’s a Costco or Walmart a town over. I’m not sure though because I never really looked. I’ve just been focusing on this place.”

“So what is this place _for?_ ” Karkat shrugs and you sigh. “KK, I know how you think. You’re not the kind of person to just have a place for fun. It has to have some kind of purpose in the grand scheme of thing.”

Your matesprit smiles. You make it sound like I’m always scheming.”

You grin. “I wouldn't say _that…_ ”

Karkat looks away. “I don’t know how to say this. It sounds so crazy out loud.”

“KK, we’re both aliens living on a planet with several other aliens and your grandfather is the legendary leader of the world’s biggest religion and he’s also your father. Also, all our grandparents were dicks, especially to each other.”

“That last thing isn’t so strange. Have you seen the Strider and English family?”

“My point still stands. None of us are really that normal.”

“Alright, you twisted my arm.” Karkat sighs, “I don’t really like to talk about it though. I just know that eventually, something might happen to your neighborhood. Trailers aren’t exactly made for the stresses of really fucked up weather. I figured that since most shelters might be crowded, why not have something like this? I’d rather not let everybody know about it because it would make me seem more paranoid, I think. It might make everyone more skeptical towards this. So I haven’t told anyone and I’d prefer you not tell them either.”

“Understandable.” Even with all the weirdness going on, you understand how testy people can be in general about strange shit, especially when it comes to odd visions no one else has been having. “It is kind of nice out here. Even if nothing happens…well, I don’t know about _moving_ here.”

“Are you kidding me?” Karkat laughs, “The internet’s spotty, I bet. You’d go crazy.”

“I wouldn’t. I don’t like the idea of being so far away from _everything._ ” you say, “And I’m pretty sure the kids wouldn’t like it either. Plus, we don’t know about the condition of the schools. They say rural schools are worse for xeno.”

“I wouldn’t know. I never thought about moving out here. I just thought it would be a nice place for a rest.” Karkat pauses, “But if we had to move, I’d probably want someplace not too far from where we live. Maybe a house for us and kids.”

“Whose kids?”

“I don’t know.” Karkat shrugs, not looking at you. “Our kids. Yours. Mine. That sort of thing.”

You laugh. “I think we both have a full enough house. Though, I guess if we had the money for it, it would be pretty okay.”

“But not right now.”

You shake your head.  “Definitely not right now.”

You sit in silence, watching the sun move across the sky. There’s not much going on besides the sound of the wind moving between the grass and the far-off sounds of civilization. It feels like the world has ended and only Karkat and you are in it. Its fine for now, but eventually you need to go back home.


	4. nest of spiders

**== >Karkat: Be Aranea a few hours into the past**

“So what happened?”

You don’t waste any time when it comes to your daughter. As soon as Karkat leaves, you’re on her without a concern as to how she feels. That sort of touchy-feely nonsense might fly for mutantbloods and someone who was in her quadrants, but you know Vriska better than she knows herself. Give her too much rope and she’ll hang you with it and then herself with the nonsense that follows. Once Karkat leaves, Vriska sits at the table.

If she’s expecting you to get her a cup of coffee and other matronly comforts, she’s sorely mistaken about the state of things. “You have to answer me sooner or later. You have nowhere to hide.”

“I have the condo.” She answers without even looking at you.

“If you felt safe there, you would already be there. Instead, you specifically told Karkat to bring you here, even though you know very well how Horuss and you feel about each other.”

Vriska gives you a long stare. You stare back. Neither of you can use your psionics on the other, subduing them and making for a quick escape from this conversation. Both of you have tried in the past but have never been able to accomplish must aside from outrage on both sides. So it becomes a battle of wits and who can outwit the other, achieving what they want.

“What is there to say?” Vriska sighs, “I was beaten at my own game.”

“A Serket is never beaten.”

“Get off your high horse.” Your daughter’s teeth clench. “‘A Serket never does this’ and ‘A Serket is never that’. You’re almost as bad as the bluebloods with how they view things. You’re just another person and we can get stepped on just like anyone--”

You place your cup down on the table harder than normal. The _thunk_ resounds through the kitchen and Vriska goes still, as if afraid you’re going to slap her (as if just a simple slap would accomplish anything by this point in your daughter’s life).

“What would you prefer me to say?” you ask, “That we’re just your average troll, we just so happen to have gifts that people would prefer we suppress? That you’re nothing better than the average troll and should squander what is your gods given right? Pathetic. I may have raised you to be many things but I never thought one of them would be ‘quitter’.”

“You didn’t ‘raise’ me. You didn’t ‘raise’ either of us. You were always too busy working to notice anything.”

You almost rub your forehead but that would be a sign that she’s getting to you. “ _This_ again…”

“Yes, _this_ again, Mom!” Vriska holds the table, steadying herself, “I only turned out how you let me. You hardly raised me to do anything. Now you have a new family and you treat Arthat like how you would have treated me, except way better.”

“And what else do you expect me to do?” you ask, “You thought letting an insect raise my grandson was a good idea? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I just wanted to do what I thought was best for my son.” Vriska looks down, “but…I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I could be like you and just do what I thought was best and things would work out. Mother’s instincts and all that, but…but I don’t know what’s best. I really don’t. It seems like we can’t just…”

You sigh. You do feel sympathy for your daughter but right now you can’t show it. “Tomorrow, Karkat is going to ask you to sign over custody paperwork of Arthat to him. You’re going to agree.”

Vriska’s eyes widen. “So I’ll never see him again?”

“No, you will see him again but sparingly.” You say, “We have to undo the damage you’ve done.”

“I did my best.”

“I’m aware. It's just that your best did more harm than good.”

She lapses into silence again, perhaps waiting for the conversation and your interest to pass. It doesn’t. You move onto the other matter at hand.

“Is what you told me over the phone true?”

“Maybe.” Another pause and then, “I’m seeing a doctor within a few days. Then I’ll know.”

“My offer still stands.”

Vriska frowns. “I know. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea given everything that’s going on.”

“Would you prefer the alternative?”

She shrugs.

“Well, let me know when you’ve made your choice.” You stand finally, deciding this is as much useful information you’re going to get out of her for the time being. “I would just prefer you tell me so I can make plans.”

She doesn’t answer but you didn’t expect that. You leave the room, letting Vriska remain in the mire of her own thoughts and mull over her mistakes like a distracted and disaffected general.


End file.
